


Justin Bailey and the Ballerina

by spookyfan2



Series: Catherine [2]
Category: Catherine (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Psychological Horror, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfan2/pseuds/spookyfan2
Summary: A look into Justin Bailey's past, from the video game Catherine.





	Justin Bailey and the Ballerina

##  _This story contains heavy topics_

  
__  
"Men who seek to control women tend to have a desire to be controlled by women."  
 _~Mr. Bailey_  
  


     You always hear about how words are the greatest weapon in existence. About how the right words in the right place and at the right time could help an army of fifty defeat an army of thousands. Historically speaking, it's the truth. I don't think  _anyone_  can deny the power of words. Not any more, not these days. That's part of the reason I wanted to be a reporter in the first place. Imagine; Using words to build or even  _save_  lives. That's admirable; heroic, even. If I could be someone like that... Saving the day not with weapons or craftsmanship, but words... That honestly sounded like a dream come true. 

    I knew that journalism wasn't all good, of course. There are bad things in the world, and I can't remember a time when that wasn't just an obvious fact of life. And it's unfortunate, but these days it seems like the stories that get the most buzz are the negative ones. Despite knowing this, I told myself, if I had the choice, I would focus on the stories that would make people smile when they read about it. Stories about two children reuniting with their father who was stationed out of the country. Stories about how the underdog managed to come out on top in a boxing tournament. Hell, if I could have, I would have interviewed Feather Adonis about how she managed to stay in the pro-women's wrestling tournament despite her injuries. I didn't want to be some big shot reporter; Just the guy barely anyone remembers, who wrote that one article that made them smile after a long day of negative news.

    But I was naive. As I said before, words could be a dangerous weapon, or a tool in which to save lives and better the world. My goal was to use my words as a journalist to save lives, but my foolish mistake was thinking I had control over the effect these words had. I wanted to use words for good - But I ended up destroying the life of an innocent young girl, and all of those she held dear.

    --------------------------------------

_"In my research, I've found that these mysterious deaths happen in 100-year cycles..._  
And there's always a man who survives."  
_~Mr. Bailey_

Some people seem to have this idea that journalists are always on the run. People have the idea in their heads that journalists are some sort of sleep depraved, caffeine fueled dogs sniffing around for 'The Big Scoop!" or what have you. While some reporters may have such a life, that wasn't what it was like for me. Not one bit. It was quiet, and there was surprisingly not a lot of talking involved. I was never chasing down some bigwig CEO alongside newscasters, and I was never shoving a camera in someone's face, asking them to answer a wide assortment of questions. A lot of my articles in the early years practically wrote themselves; You see, a story that wants to be told doesn't need coercion. A journalist's presence really does the trick, as long as they have a keen eye.

    Case in point, I was sitting at my favorite local bar when my most popular story fell right into my lap, as if it were fate. The Stray Sheep, this bar was called, and it had many regulars. Men and women of many ages would visit, and mingle with each other in a fun, daring way. It was almost as if this one bar was a place for everyone to be exactly who they wanted to be. As for me? I was content just sitting in the far corner, taking in the dazzling emotions and drinking the finest rum and cola this district had to offer. I didn't come here often at the time, because I had everything I could want back at my apartment; A caring, gentle girlfriend that was okay just lounging around at night after work hours.

    But that night was different. My girlfriend had to stay late, so I saw no reason not to visit the Stray Sheep simply out of boredom. I sat in the usual spot, quietly ordered a drink from the polite, yet intriguingly mysterious bartender, and put my brain on autopilot. 

    Say what you will about that one, lone chair at the far end of any bar's lounge  - It's the best place to overhear some interesting gossip. Bartender's have the miraculous, natural gift to be easy to talk to. They listen to their costumers problems day in and day out, and if you happen to find yourself next to a venting woman who just broke up with her boyfriend, or a man who's struggling to hide the existence of his mistress from his wife, you better believe you'll hear about it all. Come to think of it, it's the perfect spot for a journalist like myself to spend his free time. You'd be hard pressed to go a full night without hearing of  _some_  interesting stories, and after a while, you could even start forming a coherent, grand plot surrounding all of the regular patrons. All of the familiar names you hear... Jonny... Katherine... Paul... Nicholas... Jen... Allie... 

    It's almost like when you fall asleep listening to the radio. Even though you aren't really paying attention, you still subconsciously learn a whole lot; more than you might think. It's the truth.

    Anyway, that night, an auburn-chestnut haired beauty came strolling in with slouched shoulders. She looked depressed, but she was obviously feeling okay enough to put on some make-up and perfect the curls of her hair. I recognized this woman immediately; Her name was Anna. 

    Now, don't get excited. This isn't the story about how I reunited with a fiery ex-lover and combated the every day lulls with nightly bouts of passionate adultery. That's just not who I am. I'm very content with my current relationship - not that I  _would_  cheat if I wasn't - and this girl Anna was kind of known for not being one to actually settle down and chain herself to someone. Of course, this didn't stop her from flirting with a few men here and there, or so I've gathered. But tonight, she clearly wasn't in that frame of mind. If her appearance wasn't enough, the story she would soon tell Boss - A nickname for the bartender (Actually, what was his real name?) - was enough to sell it.

    "Whisky, please." She ordered. As soon as Boss came back, she starting rambling about her woes (Or more accurately, her friend's woes) to Boss as he quietly and patiently listened.

    "You see, it's just not fair!" Anna said, as if it was some big revelation that life was unfair. "There she is, working four - yes,  _FOUR_  part time jobs, and she  _still_ isn't allowed to participate in the upcoming productions!"

    "I see." Boss said, as he traced his silver mustache with his fingers. "And you think that because she's been working her butt off all of this time, she deserves a chance in the limelight?"

    "Exactly. Everyone knows the most talented of individuals are the ones who actually put in some goddamn  _effort_  to get better!" Anna shouted, gathering a few glances from the men around her, as well as the Red-headed waitress who happened to be passing by. "...And you can bet your ass the other girls on the show don't take practice seriously! They take it all for granted - Meanwhile, Julie barely has enough cash by the time she pays for her ballet lessons to feed herself!"

    Oh-ho-ho, a ballerina, huh? When Anna started talking about 'shows' and 'limelight' and 'practice', a ballet wasn't exactly the first thing that popped into my mind. I'm not especially interested in the performing arts, but I do understand how much talent is required for that kind of thing. Frankly, it baffles me that some people can even do that stuff. If this girl 'Julie' is really pouring all of her money into these Ballet lessons, she must really be confident in her abilities. 

    "Oh, we've all been there at one point," Boss said, adjusting the sunglasses he never seems to remove. "I remember once when I tried out for that one play back in the day. I practiced all day and night hitting just the right keys for my solo performance... But when I showed up, it turns out they had me replaced! And all because they didn't think I had the right face for the part! That  _really_  made me rethink my views on theater... Well, you know what they say: 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players', to abscond with the mutterings of a certain wordsmith."

    "You and your quotes..." Anna said, half annoyed, half accepting of Boss's nature. "But you see, for Julie, that quote is literal. This production  _is_  her world. It's all she truly wants in life, and the people in charge are utterly blind to her tenacity and talent. Ugh, it makes me wanna barf."

    Anna took a big gulp of her Whisky, downing the entire glass. She really did look like she was going to barf. If not now, then after she's had a few more drinks. I can only imagine how Julie herself must feel...

    Normally, this would be where I swooped in and asked some questions. It'd be nice if I could get this girl 'Julie' some popularity and support; Maybe then she'd get the gig she so desperately desires. However, I knew deep down I didn't have the conversational dexterity to interrogate Anna about her struggling best friend. Hell, Anna and I have only spoken once or twice. She probably doesn't even know my name. That wouldn't stop most reporters, or even myself, but I wasn't up for navigating the conversational equivalent of a mine field at this time.

    "You know, Anna," Boss said with a gleam in his eyes (At least it felt like it, through those ridiculous shades) "The answer to your friend's problems might be this man right here!"

    My heart skipped a beat as Boss turned to me, and motioned his hands in my direction. I was so used to being a fly on the wall in this bar, that it really threw me off to have the conversation I was just eavesdropping on turn to me. 

    "You see Anna," Boss began. "This man right here is a reporter, and if I understand his intentions correctly, he'd do anything to help those in need when it relates to his work, am I right?"

    Anna instantly looked to me with her huge, puffy eyes. I suppose I underestimated Boss. There most have been a few times in the past where I myself vented to Boss about my daily troubles. I must admit, I am surprised he even remembers the fact that I am a reporter in the first place.

    "That's right." I said, failing to think too deeply about where things may lead. I mean, Boss was right; I  _would_  love to help Anna and Julie out, despite hardly knowing them. It's just the kind of reporter I am. "If you would be willing to answer a few questions tonight, I think I just might be able to get your friend on the front-page... And while I don't know much about show business, I do know this: People  _love_  an underdog story, and show biz will always take popularity into account."

    "Oh...!" Anna said with an emotional grin. "Yes, of course! Ask anything you'd like! Oh my, what a Heaven Sent!"

    "Heheh, Well..." I laughed awkwardly while my face grew red. "No promises, but I'll do everything I can!"

    --------------------------------------

_"...On the whole, I think women have it harder._  
Being manipulated by stupid guys, being ground down by life...  
I did... something I shouldn't have..."  
_~Mr. Bailey_

As cliche as it may sound, a Pocketbook is a necessity for any reporter. It's the truth. Even in this day in age where technology seems to be replacing the pen and paper, there's just something about organizing your thoughts - in your own handwriting - that really gives a seal of approval to the information that you gather. That's why the moment Anna accepted my offer, I whipped out a pen and my pocketbook with such fluidity, you'd have thought I've been practicing the motion in the mirror.

    I told Anna what I tell everyone I interview: I cannot publish  _anything_  without direct permission from all of those involved in the material. This meant that the only way I could possibly get this story out there would be to get some form of agreement from Julie herself. Anna is eager to assist Julie in her rise to stardom, but for all I know, Julie might not want some random article about herself on all of the newspapers. As soon as I made that clear to Anna, we wasted no time in chatting on the topic. I must admit, it felt a bit scandalous getting into such a deep topic with this beautiful woman while my actual girlfriend was out conducting business, but I knew deep down she would understand that there is no danger of me cheating. I'm purely in this to help out Anna and Julie, and write the article I always strive to write.

    Usually, when someone chats your ear off about a specific person - Especially someone made out to be astonishing - the actual person doesn't live up to the mental image you've created in your own mind. Perhaps this is the reason it's best to barely give any details when you try to set your buddy up with someone. It's the truth. They say that you shouldn't try to convince someone that someone else is amazing, because it will only lead to disappointment when you realize it just isn't true. However, at the time, I was surprised to learn that Julie was an outlier in this case.

    My pocket book now had a few more pages coated in fresh ink, describing the many hardships and accomplishments of one Julie Williams. I sort of imagined her as a young, naively optimistic girl trying to claw her way into a passion that she actually might not have been suited for. However, the more Anna talked about her, my impression of this girl began to change. The things she has done to support her family in spite of her passion for ballet was surprisingly touching, and in just an hour or so I became certain that Julie was actually a mature, responsible, and determined individual that absolutely deserved any assistance I could possibly deliver. If Anna's accounts weren't exaggerated, that is.

    A part of me knew the moment I first laid eyes on Julie, however, that Anna wasn't exaggerating or stretching the truth at all. A few days after that night at the Stray Sheep, Anna contacted me letting me know that Julie would like to see me. It took me a little bit to convince my girlfriend that this was something worth doing on the one day we have off of work together, but she acquiesced in the end. 

    Anyway, this 23 year-old woman standing before me, with long, pitch black hair and a pale face, was actually the spitting image of the woman Anna had sketched out. And, after speaking with Julie myself, alongside Anna, I was happy to conclude that Julie was every bit of the woman I had hoped. Her apartment was small and modest, and the few personalized items she had around the place related to ballet in some way. Even her CD selection was that of productions such as 'The Nutcracker'. The image of her practicing her moves here in this tiny apartment, while playing 'The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' was an image that only served to endear her to me. Readers would definitely cling to her, I'm sure of it. She has what it takes to be a star, without a doubt. 

    "Is it true you can get me on the front page?" Julie said with delight, after offering Anna and I some drinks (To which I declined, but Anna asked for some tea. You can always tell how close two people are by how casually demanding they are of each other.)

    "Like I've said to Anna, I'm not making any promises, but..." I began, while adjusting my glasses and taking in the atmosphere of Julie's place. "I think you've got a good chance. There's been a resurgence in the performing arts around these parts lately, and I think your story is one that could tug on the heartstrings of many individuals. Hell, you've got me totally engrossed in your world!"

    "Oh, but my world's really not that interesting..." Julie said as her pale face grew a bit red.

    "Ah, that's where you are mistaken!" I said, as politely as I could. "Your life, at first glance, may seem utterly average, but it's the possibility of a bright future buried in your aspirations that brings wonder to this relatable life you live. I mean, no one would want to read a story about someone living a life they can't relate to!"

    "Oh, but fictional stories of that sort are my favorite!" Julie claimed. "Wouldn't people prefer to read stories  _separate_  from their own lives? Aren't people always seeking something better than what they are stuck with?"

    "Julie, trust me, people are going to want to hear about your struggles. It'll give them hope in their own lives, despite how they may be living. Doesn't that sound nice?"

    "I think it sounds wonderful."

    "Good. Then how about I show you my first draft of what exactly this article would look like? You have complete control over what I put in the papers, so do not be afraid to change things up. From this point on, please, consider me your publicist!"

    With those words, Julie grinned from ear to ear, and for the first time since we met, she stared her bright blue eyes directly into my own.

    --------------------------------------  


_"... Love is a drug, like alcohol and cigarettes...  
Repeated exposure makes you numb to it."  
~Mr. Bailey_

  


    Believe it or not, I actually don't read the newspaper all that often. It actually frustrates me a bit, seeing what stories were put where, and seeing statements I wish I had worded differently in my own articles. My girlfriend was a different story, however. 

    So before I describe to you the reaction she had the morning Julie's story was supposed to be in the paper, allow me to talk about my girlfriend for a bit. Her name is Karen, and we met all they way back in high school. Of course, at the time, we hardly knew each other, and we barely interacted with each other. I didn't think too much of her, and I'm pretty sure she felt the same way. I would have been surprised if you told me we ended up dating for more than three years, but the more I think about it, it might not be all that much of a shock at all. You see, I heard that, by the time you graduate high school, there's an 80% chance that you've already met the person you'll end up marrying. It's the truth. And thinking back on it, she was as likely a candidate as any.

    Speaking of marriage, however... I'm not too sure if this  _is_ the woman I'll marry. I love her, of course I do, but I just don't know if we're ready - or even capable - of living that sort of life. The truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared of tying the knot with her, because I feel perfectly happy how I am now. I know it's silly, but I fear marriage will threaten our current dynamic. 

    Anyway, I never really discussed my work with Karen all that much, so every time she found one of my articles in the papers, she wasn't afraid to let me know how she felt. A few times she told me she found it bizarre I would take an interest in a few topics here and there, and a couple of times she told me she thinks it's odd that I inject myself into these people's lives. I'm constantly reminding her that they've all given me permission, and that I'm only trying to make things better while also telling the whole truth of a situation. 

    This morning, however, I knew things were different. She came straight to my apartment before I even finished breakfast. I opened the door without even checking to see who it was, and there she was; staring at me with her brown eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a look that screams 'You precious little thing, you!'

    "Honey...!" She said without a greeting. "I absolutely loved your latest article! You made me tear up!"

     _...And Score!_ I thought to myself. I got the girlfriend's seal of approval, phew. With her around, I never really have to read the newspaper ever again!

    --------------------------------------  


_"To bear another person's life is very difficult..._

_And very frightening."_

_~ Mr. Bailey_

  


    After the glowing review from Karen, I could only cross my fingers and pray that both Julie and Anna liked the story as much as Karen. I've had some cases where interviewees suddenly feel as though they shouldn't have put their story out there at all; That suddenly having many people privy to details about their life is overwhelming and uncomfortable. And with a tale like Julie's, in which she took a sort of mother role for her younger siblings while working a wide assortment of jobs, I was worried that Julie wouldn't like the amount of attention she may get from this.

    Fortunately, the tears in Julie's eyes when I met up with her half a week later weren't tears of frustration, but of joy.

    "You did it," Julie said not one second after Anna and I stepped into her apartment. "You've  _done it!"_

"Ha ha, what've I done, exactly?" I replied, unable to keep myself from smiling and sharing in Julie's excitement.

    "Everything!" She said as she gave me a hug, and squeezed me energetically. "Do you know how many people have offered to help me because of your article these past few days? I decline any financial charity, but it's nice to know people appreciate what I am going through! Hell, the production has finally allowed me to participate!"

    And just like that, a wave of satisfaction washed over me. I must admit, this entire situation was serving my ego a five course meal.  _I did this._ I helped a young girl achieve her dreams - or, at least the first step towards her dreams - all with the use of Words. Once again, I am reminded of the power of words, and once again, I am fully reminded of how certain I am of my career. 

    "I can't believe it!" Anna said, as Julie continued to hug me. It was strange getting such an enthusiastic hug from someone almost a decade younger than I am. "That bitchy show runner seemed like a wall of spikes, from what I've seen!"  
      
    Julie released me, after which I promptly adjusted my glasses out of embarrassment. I just needed something for my hands to do. "You know how you always called Ms. Clark a greedy C-Word?" Julie asked Anna. "Well, you were right! Turns out she had a 'change of heart' the same day Justin's article released! We all know the reason why, but... I made it!"

    "This... is...  _Incredible news!"_ Anna said, allowing herself to finally accept the situation. Anna turned to me with an expression not unlike Karen's expression from this morning, and from there, it was her turn to give me a hug. 

    "Uh, so wait..." I said while Anna squeezed me, significantly harder than Julie did. "You got into a stage production just like that? How exactly did it all go down? Is the casting for that sort of thing really that flexible?"

    "Hm, sorta?" Julie said, with a shrug of her shoulders as Anna released me. "Anyway, who's up for some tea?"  
      
    As Anna accepted Julie's offer with gusto, I was left to ponder why exactly my article worked out as well as it did. Was Julie lying to make me feel better? Or did she really get into the ballet production just like that? What about the other performers? I'd be the first to want to admit my article worked like magic, but it all just seemed too convenient. 

    As Anna helped Julie make some tea, I took a seat in the nearby chair just across from the kitchen. I decided to keep pressing Julie.

    "So, Julie," I began. "What's the name of the production?"

    "Oh!" Julie said, as if she just realized something super important. "I have a gift for you, Justin!"

    With those words, Julie ran towards her shelf, and started digging through her belongings until she pulled out an orange folder. With a look of pride on her face, she handed it to me. "This is thanks for everything you've done for me!"

    I opened the folder, and inside was a single sheet of paper with the words "Swan Lake: Admit One West District Performing Arts Theater", followed by a barcode.

    "Is this a ticket for your show?!" I said with enthusiasm that surprised even myself. "Swan Lake, huh? I can't say I've never heard of it, but..."

    "Please come!" Julie cut me off. "I want you to see what you've helped me accomplish! I've been practicing a whole lot, even before you showed up! It's the least I can do for you! And don't worry, the ticket was free! I  _am_  in the show, after all!"

    "About that..." I began, still unwilling to let my questions go unanswered. "This ticket says the show is this weekend. What exactly happened to the women who was originally going to get your role?"

    "What do you mean?" Julie said as she tilted her head.

    "I mean, the cast is decided long beforehand, correct?" I continued. "You got in last second - Congratulations by the way - but what about the girl who was previously slated to perform?"

    "Oh!" Julie said with a nonchalant smile. "She was fired!"

    "Wha- Fired?" I said with exasperation. "They couldn't... I dunno, delegate her to another role?"

    "You know what it's like! We talked about it all night!" Julie said with some frustration. "It's a pretty harrowing processes, and the showrunner can make drastic decisions as much as she wants! There was only one way I was going to get into the show, and that was by replacing someone else. It's unfortunate, but better her than me."

    "Besides," Anna joined in as she left the kitchen. "The girl Julie is replacing is one rude bitch."  
      
    Anna seems to love that word a lot...

    "Yeah!" Julie agreed. "I do feel sorry for her, but she didn't work half as hard as I did. Please don't feel like your actions got someone fired, because that girl has all of the stability she needs to get back on her feet."

    "Yeah, okay... Glad to hear it." I said, as I began to calm down. Okay, so... Julie achieved her dream job, and someone else was fired from it. But... I can't say this isn't a good thing. Julie deserves this, and it sounds like this other girl was just someone coasting on her own families financial wealth and influence.

    I did good. 

    "Oh, by the way, Julie..." Anna said with a look of worry on her face. "You seem to have a little ant problem in you kitchen..."

    --------------------------------------

_"I think... I just wanted people to listen to me._

_I'm so weak..."_

_~Mr. Bailey_

    It was about one week after the show started playing that the messages started appearing. Nasty, horrible messages posted online about 'Julie, the Rising Star of Humble Origins'. At first, there was no need for alarm; I mean, you know how the internet can be. The internet provides a great big shield for those wishing to spread their opinions or hate. Nobody can really retaliate against something posted online. You know how it is; Even the nicest of people can say horrible things when the internet is involved. 

    That's why, even when people were saying Julie was an attention junkie hog who used her family's lack of financial judgement as a way to gain sympathy, I didn't let it get under my skin. Critics loved Julie's performance, Hell,  _I_  loved her performance the night Karen and I went to see her dance, so I knew the backlash was just people jealous of her popularity.

    But that was only the beginning. Before Swan Lake even reached the end of it's run here in local theaters, the mean comments turned into outright threats. Someone even went as far as to explain how Julie had stolen the starring role from her, and that she would be sorry if she didn't concede the position. 

    I'm not very adept at social media, so I can't even fathom how stuff like this would fly, but apparently it's a savage place on the web, and Anna's frustration was making it very clear that this wasn't going to end any time soon.

    I was at the Stray Sheep when Anna approach me in my usual spot. It had been about a week since I've heard from her or Julie, so I was actually pretty happy to see her. Unfortunately, the look on her face proved she wasn't approaching for a happy reunion.

    "You're a journalist, right?" Anna said with a stern voice.

    "Well... yeah...?" I replied with some apprehension. 

    "Then put a stop to this. I don't know or care how, just do it!"

    "Put a stop to what, rude comments? It's unavoidable! The brightest stars are always going to catch some jealous eyes, y'know!"

    "The hate comments would have been fine, but now she's getting threats!" Anna said as she took a seat closest to mine. "It's that little brat who lost the role! She's and her barbaric friends are all ganging up on Julie!"

    "Jesus," I said as I took a sip of my cocktail. "Listen, in my experience, people like that are all bark and no bite. Just tell Julie not to let words hurt her."

    "Right, because you could totally ignore people threatening to hurt your family."

    "Christ, her family?" I said, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. "You're telling me this spoiled girl is threatening Julie and her family? You're joking."

    "I wish I was. She's even getting  _letters._  Don't you see? They know where she lives!"

    "Look, I've said it before, these kinds of people are all bark. Once Swan Lake stops showing, I'm sure they'll all move on with their lives."

    "Well... I sure hope you are right..."  
_  
_ \--------------------------------------  


_"A man's true worth is shown when he reacts to the Universe without filter."  
~ Astaroth, Overseer of Nightmares_

Looking back on it now, there's a good chance that by that time it was already too late. The horrific wheels of sin and envy were already in motion that very night, and no amount of  _words_  could ever put it a stop to it. Hell, it was words of my own that got the ball rolling.

    Words of my own, huh... So I guess this really was my fault...?

    That morning began like any other. I rolled out of bed, angry that I had forgotten to close the curtains last night, allowing a stream of bright sunlight to pierce my eyelids as I tried to sleep. I got up, changed out of my laughably juvenile pajamas, and started making myself some toast.

    Hours passed. Normally my girlfriend would have been here by now. Knowing Karen, though, there's no way she wouldn't show up without at least leaving a message on my cell phone telling me why. It was this realization that pushed me to get my lazy self off the couch and grab my phone, still on the nightstand by my lamp. When I turned my phone on, I saw that Karen actually  _had_  left me a message, complete with 7 missed calls.

    Opening that message was when everything changed. The first thing I noticed when I opened the message was that it was split up into multiple parts due to the size. This never happened, so I was already alarmed by the time I read the first line, which sent my heartbeat soaring.

>     Justin, the Police are here.

  
... What? Why is the police at Karen's place? Is she okay? 

> But they aren't here for me. They're here here for you. I don't know if you've heard about what happened yet, but they need to speak with you as soon as possible about an attack. 

  
     _Attack?_ Wha-

     ***Knock-Knock-Knock***

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. The knock was loud and intrusive, leading me to assume it might be the police. With a moment's hesitation, I stood from my bed and approached my front door, leaving my phone and the message on my bed.

    I opened the door to reveal two tall gentlemen in police uniforms, and between them stood Karen, looking like she just witnessed a puppy getting killed.

    "K-Karen...!" I gasped. "I just got your text... What is going on here?"

    "Sir, are you Justin Bailey?" The dark skinned cop on Karen's right asked.  
      
    "Yes, that's Justin." Karen said. 

    "We aren't asking you, ma'am." The pale skinned cop on Karen's left interjected.

    "Ah, ah- She's right, I'm Justin Bailey. May I ask what is going on?" I asked. Part of me was eager to hear what they had to say so the suspense would just end.

    The two cops looked to each other and sighed.

    "Mr. Bailey," The dark skinned cop began. "I'm sorry to inform you that Julie is dead."

    My heart didn't sink. My mind didn't break. In fact, the news really didn't mean anything to me. How could it? It was practically a string of unrelated words.

    "Julie...?" I echoed the name. "Julie who? Williams?"

    "That is correct, sir."

    "No she isn't." I said with confidence. I knew for a  _fact_  she wasn't dead. Just recently, Julie's best friend Anna was speaking to me about Julie, and Anna would be among the first to know about Julie's death. Obviously this meant these men were mistaken, or they were playing some sick joke.

    "Uh..." the pale cop muttered, clearly not expecting me to reply in such a way.

    "And what makes you say that?" The other cop asked. 

    "Well, she was fine just the other day. And she's only 23... Oh! She's in that new play that started, 'Swan Lake'! Fantastic show, really. You see, I'm not really into theater and all that, but even so, I was amazed by her performance! Hell, I'll probably go again soon! This time paying out of my own pocket, heheh, it's worth it! Seeing her move her body in such a mesmerizing way was, to be honest, a very uniq-"

    "Sir, please take a deep breath." One of the cops said, although I didn't know which one. It was at this moment that I realized I was suddenly drenched in sweat. That's odd. I was out of breath, too. My eyes latched onto Karen, the only familiar thing in my field of view. Her eyes were puffy. I don't think I've ever seen that expression on her face before.

    "Sir, I regret to inform you that Julie Williams passed away just last night." One of the cops said. 

    "No, she's not-" I stopped. All at once, my vision began to blur as a horrible realization tried to break through my mind. If Julie's dead, the only reason she  _would_  be dead is because- Because I- Her rivals...!

    I fell to my knees, surprising even myself. 

    "Justin!" Karen shouted as she grabbed me. 

    What is this? Julie can't be  _dead_. Besides, even if these cops think she  _is_  dead somehow, why did they come to me? It's not like I'm her family member, or even her friend! In fact, I had nothing to do with Julie! Nothing at all! Who even is 'Julie'? 

    When I snapped back into reality, I was no longer at my apartments front door, but in my living room. I felt something warm press into my right hand. It was Karen's hand.

    "Why... are you here..." I whispered to the two men now standing in my room. "I meant nothing to her..."

    "Mr. Bailey, I think you'd better read this." The pale cop said as he handed me an envelope. It was addressed to myself.

    My breathing stopped. I was unable to reach my hand forward and grasp the letter being offered to me. I don't have any idea what that letter says, or why it's addressed to me, but it wouldn't take a genius to connect the dots in that moment.

    And as much as I didn't want to connect the dots, I did. 

    And once again, the world went out of focus.

    --------------------------------------

  _"They say the man who survives has his wish granted._

 _I may wish to change the past..._

 _And make someone kill me."_

 _~Justin Bailey_

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I don't think I could have done it without Karen. Opening that envelope and reading the final thoughts of Julie - thoughts that were directed at me, of all people - was the most frightening thing I've ever done.

    You'd think there'd be some solace in knowing that she didn't blame me, and in fact loved me very, very much, but there was really no comfort to be had. No matter what Julie herself believed, there is no doubt the tragic event that took the lives of Julie's family wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Anna and I. It's the truth.

    A few days ago, there was the news coverage on a terrible car accident that took place in the northern district. A few people lost their lives, but I never paid much attention to it. After all, it was the kind of sad news that I tried so desperately to distance myself from.   
      
    If I had paid attention, however, I would have learned that four of the five victims claimed in that accident were members of Julie's family; And that it wasn't an 'accident' after all. More of a follow through on a threat.

    It's obvious to me now that it was the murder of Julie's own family that caused the silence. I thought she was busy with the show, but apparently she hadn't performed a single time since Karen and I went to see her ourselves.

    This tragedy made me sick. No, more than that. Ever since I read Julie's letter and heard the news of how she took her own life, I learned that words really are the most dangerous thing in existence, and that I should strive to distance myself from them as much as possible.

    I just don't want to hurt anyone else.

    Every waking moment I tried to persevere until my next trip to the Stray Sheep, in which I would attempt to drown my regrets with alcohol. I began seeing my girlfriend less and less these days, but I doubt she blames me. If I'm  honest, though, I don't even care about that, really. It's not like I was ever going to marry her, especially know that my life has taken a nose dive into despair.

    And then, after a few long, torturous weeks, just when I was beginning to emerge from my seemingly perpetual funk, the Nightmares began.

 

_Extra, Extra! Read all about it! Justin has been chosen! A sweet, loving, strong girl like Karen would be wasted on a sack of human shit like Justin!_

 _And so, he'll answer to Him. Sweet dreams, Justin Bailey!_


End file.
